Ficlet: High Speed Dirt
Title: High Speed Dirt
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Pairing: John Sheppard/ Ronon Dex
Genre: Ficlet
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: Written for the prompt "John/Ronon: Jumping out of a perfectly good airplane," requested by
maab_connor over on comment_fic.
High Speed Dirt
John got like this, sometimes, when he was all fucked out and waiting on the adrenaline crash. He'd get really excited, over really bad ideas, and make sure Ronon stayed awake to hear all of them.
"Let me get this straight," Ronon yawned. "Your people jump out of perfectly good airplanes?"
"Well, it's good practice for when you have to jump out of a perfectly fucked airplane. Also. It's fun." John's shrug dislodged the pillow under his head, and he yanked it back into position.
Ronon could have left it there. Could have waited it out. He'll fall asleep eventually.
But maybe Ronon was a little sweat-stupid too. "Sounds dumb."
"Wimp."
Ronon growled against the crown of John's head, but didn't open his eyes. "What did you call me?"
"I'm callin' you out." There was a tired laugh, and a tapping on Ronon's chest, a finger sliding across cooling sweat, heading down, but veering lazily off course somewhere near his hipbone.
"Whatever." Ronon shifted his weight on the bed in preparation for sleep that was too far from coming. The cool air on his skin, as the air crept in the space between them, was a revelation.
"You're really adorable when you're grumpy and unarmed, you know that?" John tugged at a dreadlock, until Ronon swatted his hand away. "Anyway. There's a class and everything, show you what you need to know."
"There's a class? Wait. No." He looked at John, hoping he was tired enough that he'd missed the question.
Too late. John opened his eyes, blearily hopeful. "I'll go with you."
"No," Ronon said, wondering if he could convinced John to talk about it in the morning.
"Fine," John sighed, too sleepy a sound to convey any irritation. "I'll go on my own," he said, and finally fell silent.
Ronon lay awake for a while, waited until John's breathing evened out. Pressed a kiss to the side of his face and decided.
Fine. I'll go with you.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Pairing: John Sheppard/ Ronon Dex
Genre: Ficlet
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: Written for the prompt "John/Ronon: Jumping out of a perfectly good airplane," requested by
maab_connor over on comment_fic.
High Speed Dirt
John got like this, sometimes, when he was all fucked out and waiting on the adrenaline crash. He'd get really excited, over really bad ideas, and make sure Ronon stayed awake to hear all of them.
"Let me get this straight," Ronon yawned. "Your people jump out of perfectly good airplanes?"
"Well, it's good practice for when you have to jump out of a perfectly fucked airplane. Also. It's fun." John's shrug dislodged the pillow under his head, and he yanked it back into position.
Ronon could have left it there. Could have waited it out. He'll fall asleep eventually.
But maybe Ronon was a little sweat-stupid too. "Sounds dumb."
"Wimp."
Ronon growled against the crown of John's head, but didn't open his eyes. "What did you call me?"
"I'm callin' you out." There was a tired laugh, and a tapping on Ronon's chest, a finger sliding across cooling sweat, heading down, but veering lazily off course somewhere near his hipbone.
"Whatever." Ronon shifted his weight on the bed in preparation for sleep that was too far from coming. The cool air on his skin, as the air crept in the space between them, was a revelation.
"You're really adorable when you're grumpy and unarmed, you know that?" John tugged at a dreadlock, until Ronon swatted his hand away. "Anyway. There's a class and everything, show you what you need to know."
"There's a class? Wait. No." He looked at John, hoping he was tired enough that he'd missed the question.
Too late. John opened his eyes, blearily hopeful. "I'll go with you."
"No," Ronon said, wondering if he could convinced John to talk about it in the morning.
"Fine," John sighed, too sleepy a sound to convey any irritation. "I'll go on my own," he said, and finally fell silent.
Ronon lay awake for a while, waited until John's breathing evened out. Pressed a kiss to the side of his face and decided.
Fine. I'll go with you.